


Strangers With Candy

by honeymink



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 02:34:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/657105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeymink/pseuds/honeymink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Valentine's Day people usually unlikely to spend time together share an assortment of sweets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strangers With Candy

**Author's Note:**

> This is (in all likelihood) the last fanfic I'll ever write.

Falling, he lost consciousness. He remembered two eyes that looked at him and one last up and down of an airstream. Gently cradling him like his fostress. A child would have taken pleasure in it. He closed his eyes and slipped through unknown worlds. With a harsh jolt he came down to earth. 

“Things happen whether you deserve them or not.” 

Her voice was like velvet. She gave him a toffee apple, shiny and red. It was sticky but he took it nonetheless.

“It’s a holiday. They celebrate love,” she derided with a fine smile. “In a land without happy endings. Isn’t that just curious?”

Day was fading into a bluish haze.

“You must have magic then to know fate,” he said. “Do you see their future in a mirror?”

Cora still smiled when she held out her hand and Phillip took it too.

“Let me show you.”

 

***

 

It was a box of fine chocolates from a faraway land they would never see. But they heard it had mountains. Ruby had warned them that Granny wouldn’t be pleased. Granted, bringing food to a restaurant appeared to violate etiquette. So the box sat on Kathryn’s lap.

“It’s hardly the same,” she said, comparing her online classes to Harvard Law. “Sometimes I think it’s even worse, being trapped here, knowing we cannot leave. Not without losing ourselves again.”

Mary Margaret decided she liked nougat the best. 

“I’ve seen what’s left,” she nodded. “It’s a wasteland. We can’t go home again.”

A piece of bittersweet chocolate melted on her tongue and Kathryn thought it should be odd to spend Valentine’s Day at the diner with Mary Margaret. But somehow it wasn’t.

“I suggested we look for a house but David thinks it’s too big of a commitment and sets a bad example for the rest of the town.”

“Jim insists I move in with him. If only it wasn’t a cabin in the woods!”

There was a moment of silence before they sighed in unison, “True love is hard.”

“We sound like such prissy nags,” Mary Margaret realised in horror and they both cringed a bit. “But the ones with the pistachio filling are really good.”

Kathryn bit into another little piece of chocolate and nodded approvingly.

“Want to hear something funny?” she asked, her tongue wiping chocolate from her front teeth. “I don’t need to pass the Maine bar exam to tell you that technically, David could be prosecuted as a bigamist.” 

Granny stared suspiciously in their direction, but Kathryn and Mary Margaret couldn’t stifle their giggles.

 

***

 

“So this is a date?” she asked, breathless and excited with flushed cheeks.

And he knew he was in trouble. 

“Jelly Baby?” he suggested instead and pulled a crumpled paper bag out of his hat.

Earlier, Whale had murmured something about wolf business and David had to guard the sheriff station in Emma’s absence. 

“Even so is there some rule that we have to be in a nuthouse?” Jefferson had tried to argue but his words went unheard.

So it was down to him to look after Belle. But he’d be damned if they stayed in this bloody hospital. Covering her in some fancy light green silk robe, he lifted the girl into the wheelchair and off they ran, down the fog-shrouded driveway, raced along main street and straight into Granny’s. In hindsight it was truly amazing how he could trick the hospital staff the same way twice.

“They are soft on the inside!” she appeared in awe as she tore a lime green one apart, the starch of the coating softly falling down onto the table like snow.

She probably expected a compliment along the same lines. Soft hair, soft skin, soft centre. If anything was certain, Gold would totally kill him upon his return. 

“That’s none of ours, right? It’d so make Granny’s hackles rise!” Ruby pointed at the shards of porcelain on the table. 

She was on red roller skates and wore a white mini dress embroidered with tiny red hearts. 

“No, I found it in her room,” Jefferson sighed and dug some superglue out of his pockets. “Where is Whale? He’s given you the glad eye for days now. I assumed he’d be with you, putting the hard word on.”

Ruby frowned. “Did anyone ever tell you, you’re mad as a March hare?” 

“Strangely? No.” Jefferson tipped his chin up with a short tight smile. 

Just as he opened the bottle, he realised the glue was the glittery kind. Probably something he had picked up for one of Grace’s craft projects. Brilliant. At least Gold couldn’t kill him twice.

“Oh, may I have a burger?” Belle asked enthusiastically. “I don’t think I ever had one.”

“Sure thing,” Ruby scribbled the order on her little notepad. “Anything for you?”

“Tea? And how about reinforcements? Is Mulan coming?”

Ruby shook her head. “Afraid not. But she left this for you.”

Glitter and porcelain pieces sticking to his fingers, Jefferson threw his hands up in despair.

“A fortune cookie? Seriously?” 

Realising his predicament, Ruby broke it apart and put the tiny slip of paper in front of him and shrugged. “Okay then, burger and tea, coming right up!”

One look at it and he knew he needn’t even bother with his glasses. “It’s in damn Chinese!” he yelled after her.

Discouraged, he looked down on the little cup he tried to fix. This clearly wasn’t going to happen in this realm or any other.

“I remember now,” Belle suddenly beamed at him.

“Really?” 

Hope flared up again. If she remembered, that would surely get him back in Gold’s good graces.

“Yes, we did the same thing before. Running from the hospital together!” 

_Oh wrong answer, dearie._ He felt Belle’s hand cupping his cheek. Jefferson closed his eyes and exhaled. Her touch was soft indeed. _This way madness lies…_

“You know, I think I can read this!” she exclaimed, interrupting the moment.

He looked at her suspiciously. “What does it say?

Belle turned the paper slip from the fortune cookie around. Her lips moved silently until she finally smiled and translated.

“It says _Suddenly you have become president of people with crappy lives._ ”

 

***

 

Smee had explained the occasion to him. 

“Catnip for morons!” Hook had spat with disdain. 

Sweets and compliments just to get into some silly bird’s knickers. Clearly some ninny must have fallen off his bloody rocker to invent such a tiresome holiday. Since when were a couple of gold coins not good enough?

“T'is just how this world works, sir!”

Smee had ducked as if to dodge a blow and smiled, all servile. Hook had rolled his eyes but took the small tin with the glossy lavender enamel finish nonetheless. He wasn’t convinced it was worth it. 

On his way to the diner a light rain washed his boot prints off the pavement. The monitoring device grazed the skin on his ankle. He was only allowed to go so many places. Walking into Granny’s proved uncomfortable. For the most part he blamed it on his cracked ribs and the requisite to exhibit a brazen yet ominous grin when looking down on all those crashing bores he couldn’t escape from at present.

The princess was sitting in the last booth, in a dark corner with her back against the wall. Every time she turned a page of her book, she licked her pink lips. His healthy hand tightened around the lilac tin in the pocket of his leather coat and made him sorely aware that he was still missing his hook.

“I have to ask, was it an accident?” Ruby rolled over his foot with some strange red trainers on wheels. 

Hook clenched his teeth in pain, but shot her a provocative grin. “My charm, my good looks, my wit? You have to be more specific, Red.”

“Oh no. Your birth! I mean, I hope not. Surely nobody could plan something that cruel.” There was sincerity in her sarcasm. “Exactly how high are you, walking in here like this?”

Truly, he had to give them that, they had some very potent potions in this world. 

“Moderately to extremely,” he sneered. “Now, how about some buttered rum? I shall take a seat in the corner, pet.” 

It seemed like Aurora had been there alone for hours. As he slipped next to her in the booth he saw her mocha was cold, and the cake she bought with the little money he assumed Mulan had left her with had turned to stone.

“Captain,” she acknowledged his presence with a haughty regal nod and exhaled, nostrils flared. “What owes me the displeasure of your unlooked-for company? I had so dearly hoped this town held other establishments more to your liking.”

Not an ideal start but something in the princess’ ire always amused him. Had he not been so preoccupied with pleasing Cora, he would have seen her wilfulness before. He could tell Aurora was dangerous. Her name sounded innocent, but everything else about her spoke trouble. A lover of beauty, he admired her clear, germander eyes, so melting so adorable, and her sensitive mouth made for kissing and sucking. In addition, Aurora’s sandalwood-scented perfume implied a purity that Hook wasn’t sure she actually embodied.

“Witless peasants that they are, I’m afraid this is the only decent tavern they maintain in this hamlet. Yet I’m distraught at your implications, Your Highness,” he feigned shock and a hint of hurt gleamed in his dark blue eyes. “Despite my profession, it’s a mere coincidence that I have a love of gambling and booze and a knack for catching syphilis. Cross my heart and hope to die!”

“Indeed?” Aurora questioned with a tight lipped smile. “I told you once before, pirate. My loyalties are not easily bought, even if you resorted to the most wretched trickery in stealing my heart.”

Her pale cheeks were only tinted with the pink of the faintest of roses. She wore a short silk dress, tailored as was fashion in this realm, but in colour the same lavender as her former royal gown. A slim headband with a bow in the same shade held her tawny curls back. 

One brief peak under the table revealed cute round-toe flats with a t-strap over silk stockings. He could see a bit of pale skin looking out from where her dress had ridden up a little. Hook felt his mouth water and his cock harden. No, the princess was definitely not innocent.

“I would not dare insult you and claim I was entirely repentant. But I hear this day holds certain significance in this land. So let a wayward privateer attend upon a princess for she is his most favourite of all.” Hook pulled out the shiny tin and tempted in a low voice, “There are sweets involved.”

Curiosity got the better of her. Still slightly suspicious she opened the little round tin. In it Aurora found tiny hearts, firm and with a delightful taste combination of liquorice and violet. She placed one on her pink tongue and sucked firmly, smiling at him as the candy dissolved in her hot mouth. 

It looked like she was making a display of it and suddenly his mind was occupied with revenge for her teasing. He’d put her over his knee, pull her very proper skirt up and with his punishment he’d bring a joyous string of tears to her eyes and a treasured heat to the fragile skin of her bottom. Any minute now, he’d rival the hatter when it came to madness, Hook was certain of it.

“What delicate metaphor,” she smiled perhaps more honestly. “So you are my black hearted love.”

It became beyond unbearable now. Like a ravenous animal he was drawn to her smooth and creamy thighs. Her words seemed willing to feed his open mouth, whispering sweetly into his ear. Only a little more patience, he told himself, and he could finally devour her craving and melancholy.

“Being a virgin is a wonderful and precious thing to hold on to, princess.” Hook gave a husky sigh and finally placed his hand on her knee. “You know, as long as it doesn't interfere with your fucking.”

For a moment she appeared taken aback, ready to push him off but then instead she held his gaze. Regal posture, haughty look, nostrils flared again, her lightly glossed lips slightly parted trembling with indignation.

“How could you even? I am not of easy virtue… but I mean… I don’t understand what you…”

Hook loved that the princess got so flustered she couldn’t put a proper sentence together. His smirk only grew wider as his fingertips brushed further up her thigh. Aurora shivered a little.

“I am not unacquainted with…”

Her breasts were heaving and her breath came in short spurts. Finally he reached her knickers and found them soft and warm and wet. But what did she say? Her last words only slowly resonated. As he pondered this, his first strokes were the slowest, still over the moist silk, before he pushed the fabric aside.

“Oh?” Hook raised an eyebrow and assumed a playful tone. As much as he’d like her focus on him, he wasn’t threatened but rather amused and curious. “Tell me, what would Phillip do to you, love?”

“But – I can’t… there are… people…” Aurora was shaking in a mixture of fear and arousal.

Surely to honour the romantic nature of the holiday, the diner was merely lit by candle light. Ruby seemed to have "forgotten" about his order out of spite so Hook was pretty sure they were safe from prying eyes. To soothe Aurora, he blew the candle out that decorated their table. After sliding two fingers gently along her slit, carefully flickering over the hardened nub of her clit, she finally seemed less scared.

“So?” he demanded indiscretions, enjoying making her squirm. “Was he very sweet and gentle, looked you deep into the eyes and praised your beauty?”

His mockery was all too evident but he knew she would not escape his caresses. Carefully she leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder. Hook could feel her flushed cheek warm against his skin.

“Hm,” she mewled when his fingers were finally swirling, pushing and probing. “Phillip would… oh Killian… please…”

Perhaps it was cruel indeed but he couldn’t stop himself. 

“Your confession is safe with me, Aurora!” Hook promised in a benevolent tone planting a light kiss on her forehead.

“It was about the words,” she whispered. “I would tell him to hush for they mortified and terrified me. But he would not.”

Even in the dim light he could see her blushing deeply. Hook had to stifle his laughter.

“You naughty girl,” he scolded softly. _One finger, two fingers._ “Should I go for a third?”

“Yes please.”

She begged, shy and desperate. He smirked.

“So eager! Will you be a proper little princess and take care of my cock, love?”

 _Waiting. Panting. Listening to her heart beat._ And somewhere distant he could hear some music playing from one of their strange devices and Ruby clattering with the dishes.

“Yes,” she finally agreed, unbuttoning his trousers, slowly freeing his cock. Again, this was torture.

“Yes what?” he barked huskily.

Aurora stuttered. “I will be good and… I will… take care of your cock, Killian.”

Content, he kissed her forehead again as she placed her small hand on his shaft and started pumping, slowly at first, then faster, any sense of propriety gone.

“Your little pussy is so very greedy and wet, love… clenching and contracting around my fingers!” he groaned and she made a whimpering sound every time he used a filthier word. “So bloody close…”

But not close enough. He could sense she knew it too.

“Let’s go back to the convent,” he suggested, still breathing heavily. 

She nodded silently in agreement. Given the lack of housing Aurora and her warrior friend had been placed there, so had Hook after his release from the hospital – something about being taught how to make wholesome life choices under proper supervision. He had a feeling this didn’t include doing a line with the princess. On the other hand weren’t they going on and on about this book? And wasn’t there something about getting somebody to know in the biblical sense? Perhaps it wasn’t wrong after all. Not that he was actively looking to pursue the right path and a bunch of malarkey they went on and on about, especially Queen Snow and her totally whipped husband. In any case, this train of thought had to be stopped before it ruined a perfectly pleasant night.

“Captain? Will we… share more kindness and affections then?” 

The dainty princess being so shy again and addressing him by his title made him feel even dirtier and perhaps he should have been ashamed to admit that he liked that feeling but he wasn’t.

Having rearranged his clothing, he got up and smiled down at her.

“That we will. I shall wait outside for you so the good townsfolk of Storybrooke won’t get suspicious,” he mocked. She flinched a bit. So he gently ran his fingers through her hair and winked at her before he headed for the door, “Wait a few minutes. And don’t forget your sweets!”

 

***

 

After leaving the two nutters to their own devices, Whale headed straight for the candy store. Once upon a time he had told Mary Margaret that he’d never do the expected thing but given the nature of the holiday, that appeared to be a problem impossible to solve.

If he was honest, he also didn’t really know what she-wolves were usually into except for long romantic walks on the beach or runs in the woods. 

A few weeks ago he could have had a chance to find out more. The town’s taxidermist had approached him. Apparently someone had brought in a wolf, a beautiful beast with one eye black as night and the other blood-red. After going through the usual preparations he had turned to Whale, alluding to the possibility of some scientific work. Always tempting of course. But after meeting Ruby experimenting on a wolf seemed to cross a line plus Whale wasn’t too sure about the taxidermist’s idea to endow the animal with Graham’s voice and leave it as a present for Sheriff Swan. 

“I did things I wouldn't force on a mule, and that includes things I forced on a mule,” he had declared. “I’d like to use that second chance I was given.”

And that was that. So he found himself at the candy store, bought sour plums, jawbreakers, mint humbugs. The girl behind the counter introduced herself. Her name was Maud Beltham and she wasn’t in Henry’s storybook either. Whale laughed, relieved. He wasn’t the only monster from a different land or time that was trapped here.

“White chocolate mousse always goes well with the ladies,” Maud said and he tasted the sickly sweet cream of it.

Explaining the wolf situation, she suggested some maple syrup glazed bacon. So he took some of that and a few other things for good measure.

On the street, he slipped bonbons into his mouth and tugged the balls into his cheek, leaving them there until his salvia broke them down to sugar water. As he ate cola bottles, he thought of Ruby in her waitress uniform at the diner and wondered if she would taste like soda against his tongue. Walking down main street he reached for the last sweet in the bag.

Cherry lips.

Finally at Granny’s he realised he had nothing to show for. 

“Victor?” Mary Margaret said, waving at him. “You don’t look so good.”

Nervously he looked around but thankfully her holier-than-thou husband was nowhere to be seen. Instead she shared a table and a box of chocolates with the wife, ex-wife, sister wife… he couldn’t get these things straight these days. So really, who was David Nolan to call himself Charming and kick him in the nuts anyway?

“I bought some candy for Ruby but then I ate it myself,” he told her, surely looking a mess, as he sunk down on his knees and hid under the table, resting his heavy head on Mary Margaret’s knees. “I think I’m getting sick.”

This was really pathetic. Only a few months ago he had been confident Doctor Whale giving Miss Blanchard profound advice on life. Now he was Victor Frankenstein, putting the monster in M.D. and she was Queen Snow. _She who laughs last and all that._

Thankfully she was still the sweetest woman he ever met and didn’t hold it against him. Even though this was awkward. The other Mrs. Nolan skewed her head and looked at him worriedly.

“Perhaps he needs an emetic?” she suggested.

“I pass. Bulimia is so ’87,” he replied weakly. Now that he thought about it, it felt more like a nervous breakdown than a stomach thing.

Soothingly, Mary Margaret ran her fingers through his sweaty hair. It reminded him of their first failed date and how she talked about the fifteen children in her class. 

“You should stand up now,” she suggested calmly but firmly. “Ruby will be out of the kitchen soon. I know you don’t like to associate with who you were but does that really matter? She already likes you.”

And so he did, not without banging his head against the table. In any case Mary Margaret had only confirmed what Ruby had told him before. Maybe there was hope after all.

 

***

 

Cora read people’s destinies from the windows of a small white building that housed a tavern. 

“During daytime,” she told him. “It is hard to draw conclusions because the refracting light from the glass distorts the images. So it is best to wait until nightfall when you can see inside but can’t be seen yourself.”

Through observation Phillip found out that the right windows revealed family background, the ones in the middle gave information about health issues and those on the left exposed matters of the heart. 

Sometimes he witnessed scenes that remained riddles. In one of the windows he saw the one he wanted to be his bride. She wore a lavender dress that delighted him and her hair open, merely tamed by a headband. There were other scenes: In the windows to the left he saw himself killing another man by burning him to ash. Perhaps it was his destiny to become the _Yaoguai_ yet again. Later he saw his love again and her friend, a beauty with raven hair. After a while this reality seemed to pale and once the memories of future’s past faded, he became less and less interested in fulfilling his destiny.

“Perhaps, my sweet, it is prudent to let someone else live your destiny as it has been revealed to you in the windows,” Cora offered. 

_But could it be so easy?_

Tormented, Phillip queried, “But won’t it come looking for me like a hungry beast nonetheless? And what about the people behind those windows: Why would they want to learn about their destinies?”

With a smile she took his hand in hers, “They have unfounded hope to forge their own fortune. Yet it is not granted to most of them. And you, dear boy, perhaps one day there won’t be anything for you to see in those windows. It’s important to know when you’ve been beaten, yes?”

“Will I die then?” he asked, uneasiness in his voice.

“Not necessarily,” she replied. “One can live without a destiny.”

Phillip nodded at Cora’s wisdom and shared a Bit-O-Honey with her as he thought of the colour of his former bride’s hair.

 

**~Fin~**


End file.
